


No One Dances Alone

by tehfanglyfish



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Deviates From Canon, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), extreme artistic license with beltane customs, leon has had enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 18:39:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19256917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehfanglyfish/pseuds/tehfanglyfish
Summary: When Arthur attends a Beltane dance to build peace with the druids, Iseldir decides to pair him with Emrys.





	No One Dances Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters - just taking them out for a bit of fun.

“Left, right, now forward. Ok, backward.  That’s good, you’ve almost – Ow!”

The king glared at his servant who had stopped moving.

“ _Mer_ lin!”

“What?! You’re the one who stepped on my foot.”

Arthur sighed. “I’m never going to get this right.”

“You will. I believe in you. You are the Once and Future King, destined to…”

“Yes, well, destiny apparently does not make one a capable dancer. I don’t understand it. My footwork on the training ground is impeccable.”

“This is different. Dancing is hardly the same playing around with a sword. Shall we try again?”

Arthur paused, reflecting on how his life had taken such a strange turn as of late. For the past two weeks he had been trying to master the steps of the traditional dance the druids performed at their Beltane celebrations. Though he had made progress, he was nowhere close to being as skilled as he would like, and while Arthur did not wish to appear undignified in public, there was far more at stake than his pride.

During Uther’s reign, it would have been unheard of for the king to endeavor to learn such customs. Arthur, possessing far more wisdom and compassion than his father, sought to build an alliance with the druids. He was working toward lifting the ban on magic and reintegrating followers of the old religion into Camelot’s society. Initial talks with a druid delegation had been tense but productive, and now Arthur was to meet with them again at Beltane. While they had assured him that his participation in the ritual dance was not required, Arthur knew that it would be a goodwill gesture, much needed after decades of suspicion and brutality.

And so each night Arthur and Merlin barricaded themselves in Arthur’s chambers, as Merlin tried to teach the king the correct moves. With Beltane fast approaching, Arthur was starting to think this was a battle he might lose.

How Merlin, who was so usually clumsy and uncoordinated, could be so skilled at dancing, perplexed Arthur. The king couldn’t want for a better teacher. And even with the pressures upon him, there was something soothing about being wrapped up in Merlin’s surprisingly strong arms. When he held Arthur tightly to keep him from tripping over his own feet, it felt right. Arthur could let the weight of the throne slip away and relax into…

“Sire?”

Arthur realized he’d gotten lost in his thoughts.

“I suppose we could go once more.”

Merlin nodded and stepped forward, pulling Arthur’s body against his. The king tried not to shiver at the sensation.

“I wonder who the druids will select as my partner for the dance.”

“Iseldir said you were free to choose whoever you wish. Perhaps you should ask Gwen.”

Arthur laughed.

“I don’t think she’d be amenable after what I did to her toes on that first night. And I want Iseldir to choose. For this gesture to carry the meaning that I intend, I really should be paired with someone who has magic.”

Merlin stumbled, momentarily losing his footing.

“Relax, Merlin. I know it will take some time to learn to fully trust magic users but I think Iseldir wants peace as much as we do.”

“Of course, my lord,” Merlin said. “Now let’s get this right. We wouldn’t want you to crush some poor druid’s toes.”

________________________________

Four days later, Arthur found himself in the middle of one of the most joyous celebrations he’d ever witnessed. While it was true that feast days at Camelot could be quite impressive, he had to concede that they paled in comparison to Beltane with the druids.

Though mostly nomadic, the druids had made camp for several weeks in the Darkling Woods, giving them time to prepare. Streamers and ribbons adorned tents and trees. Most of the druids wore bright, colorful clothing, and many had floral garlands in their hair. In keeping with the spirit of occasion, the king even accepted a flower crown presented by a small child.

Apart from Gwaine, who contended that he’d never met a fertility-themed party he didn’t like, Arthur’s knights hovered at the edge of the celebration. They appeared intrigued but somewhat wary, accepting offers of food and drink with strained politeness. The king gave them a look, trying to will them to mingle with the druids. He understood their hesitation, but much depended upon the two sides letting go of old fears.

Arthur turned his attention to Merlin who seemed completely at ease, helping himself to the feast and bantering with the revelers. People spoke to him as if they’d known him for ages. A small girl offered Merlin his own flower crown, more ornate that Arthur’s. The king smiled to himself, thinking of how completely ridiculous and, though he would never admit it, cute his servant looked.

Merlin’s demeanor abruptly changed when Iseldir approached, whispering something in his ear. Merlin’s posture grew rigid and he appeared to be having a heated argument with the man. Whatever the druid was saying, Merlin clearly didn’t like it, shaking his head violently in response to Iseldir’s words.

Growing worried, the king tried to make his way to them but was stopped by an older woman called Finna.

“Thank you for joining us, Arthur Pendragon. We appreciate this effort you’ve made to bring peace between our peoples.”

“I’ve never attended a party quite like this one. The pleasure is mine.”

Arthur tried to push past but Finna kept talking.

“Just wait until the dancing starts. That’s when the Beltane celebrations truly begin.”

“So Merlin has told me. I’ve been practicing for weeks. Hopefully I won’t shame Camelot.”

“You have nothing to worry about, sire. You’ll be partnered with Emrys.”

“Emrys? I don’t remember meeting him.”

“Though he rejects the role, we revere Emrys as a kind of leader, destined to help restore magic to the land. He is not simply a sorcerer, he is magic itself.” Finna paused, noticing the worried expression on Arthur’s face. “I understand how that might unsettle you, but fear not. His power is immense but he uses it only for good. And anyway, he thinks very highly of you.”  

Finna gave the king a wink and excused herself, freeing Arthur to make his way to Merlin.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked in a low voice, having pulled Merlin aside.

“Never better.”

“Merlin, please. Iseldir clearly said something that upset you. If anything is wrong…”

Merlin gave Arthur a sad smile.

“The dance is about to begin. We should join the others.”

Arthur knew Merlin was keeping something from him but there was no time to press the matter. They made their way to the clearing where the druids were gathering, their musicians already in place. Watching Arthur’s approach, Iseldir addressed the assembly.

“We are fortunate to have amongst us honored guests from Camelot. For many years, we were persecuted and forced to hide. But that time is over. Camelot’s new king is wise and just. While I know that it has not been easy, he is correcting wrongs of the past and creating peace. And though there is still much to discuss, tonight he celebrates with us. The king has agreed to participate in the Beltane dance.”

Both druids and knights applauded. Gwaine whistled. Arthur tried to give everyone a friendly smile. Despite his anxiety over what was about to happen, the king found himself more preoccupied with Merlin who had remained silent, his body rigid, face grim. Arthur couldn’t figure it out. If there was danger, surely Merlin would have told him. He didn’t want to leave Merlin in such an apprehensive state, but Iseldir was gesturing for him to step into the center of the gathering.

“On this night, when we celebrate fertility,” Iseldir began, pausing for a few raucous cries from the crowd, “no one dances alone. King Arthur has granted me the honor of selecting his partner. I have given this much consideration. The druids also wish to forge peace with Camelot, and so to symbolize this growing alliance, I choose the greatest of all magic users to join the king. I choose Emrys.”

The cheers that erupted from the druid revelers faded into an uncomfortable silence as Arthur remained alone in the middle of the clearing. He wondered if perhaps Emrys didn’t think as highly of him as Finna had let on. Maybe Emrys believed that all Pendragons were the same and blamed Arthur for his father’s cruelty. Finna had said he was a kind of leader to the druids. If he rejected Arthur, there was likely no chance for reconciliation.

“Please come forward, Emrys. You know what this means to all of us.” Iseldir’s voice remained strong, but had a pleading tone to it.

From where Arthur had previously been standing, people began to shuffle, letting someone, presumably Emrys, pass. The king watched, waiting for his partner to arrive when out stepped… Merlin? Arthur felt frustrated. Emrys had shunned him and now Merlin, still wearing his stupid flower crown, was blundering straight into the middle of diplomatic disaster. The king had been so optimistic only a few minutes before but now everything had gone very, very wrong.

“Hello, Arthur. Care to dance?” Merlin reached out a shaking hand.

With Merlin’s approach, the musicians struck up a tune, providing cover for the king to chastise his servant.

“Merlin, have you lost your mind?” Arthur hissed. “Now is not the time. I appreciate that you’re trying to help me save face after Emrys stood me up but…”

“You’ve… you’ve not been stood up, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was little more than a whisper at this point. “I’m… the druids… they call me Emrys.”

“Stop having me on. This isn’t funny.”

Arthur spared a glance at Iseldir, who gave the king a knowing smile and nodded. It was too much. Arthur felt as though he’d been hit in the gut with a mace. He couldn’t breathe. Merlin… his Merlin… the man he trusted the most of anyone in his entire life… was a sorcerer? And not any old sorcerer, but “magic itself”? Leader of the druids? He started to back away when Merlin’s hand caught his arm.

“I know you’re livid and rightly so. I’ve kept things from you and lied to you and you feel betrayed. Look, chop my head off when Beltane is over, but don’t let my failings ruin what you’ve worked so hard to accomplish.”

Even with the tension between them, Merlin’s voice grounded Arthur, reassured him. And Merlin did have a point. This night was about forging an alliance and Arthur needed to remember that.

“I want answers.”

“Ok.”

“Tonight.”

“Yes, sire.”

“And no more lies.”

“I promise, Arthur. I swear.”

“Let’s get this over with.”

Arthur took Merlin’s hand, squeezing it a bit too tightly. Merlin tried not to wince, following Arthur’s lead. The crowd cheered as the pair began to move to the music, Arthur performing the steps perfectly. Soon other dancers joined in, the previous unease completely forgotten. Arthur was so relieved to see some of the knights among them that he relaxed into Merlin’s arms. Perhaps something was being cemented here, a new beginning. It made Arthur hopeful, so much so that he almost forgot the whole mess with Merlin. Almost. A few well-placed missteps served as a reminder to Merlin, and his toes, that all was not forgiven.

________________________________

After hours of revelry, the festivities wound down. A drunken Iseldir had ushered Arthur and Merlin off to a tent reserved for the king, explaining that it would bring terrible misfortune if the guest of honor didn’t spend the night with his partner. Giving them a grin, Iseldir made a few horrid jokes about fertility and “forging unions,” then staggered off to his own tent. For the first time that night, they were completely alone.

Merlin slumped to the ground, pulling the garland from his hair, tossing it to the side. He seemed weary and defeated. Arthur knew he should be raging, but the sight of Merlin so shattered broke his heart.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Arthur intended for his words to come out furious, but instead they sounded distraught, desperate.

“I don’t know. I wanted to but…”

“But what?”

“There was never a good time. When your father was still alive, he would’ve killed me.”

“If he had found out.”

“And then after he was gone… I thought about it. I planned so many different ways to do it but then you started negotiating with the druids and drafting the repeal and I couldn’t.”

“Why the hell not? That would seem like the perfect time, what with your king navigating something he knows nothing about. He might’ve been grateful to have a loyal friend there to help him.”

Agitated, Arthur began to pace about the tent.

“Because if I told you, your councilors would say that you were rescinding the ban to spare a friend. Or that the druids were using me, or that I’d enchanted you to do it.”

“Have you enchanted me?”

“Gods, no! Arthur, believe me, I would never… not even to save my life.”

Arthur had known the answer to that question even before he asked it, but he’d wanted to make Merlin squirm. The pained expression on Merlin’s face caused Arthur to immediately regret it.

“Still… I could’ve used your help. I’m really out of my depth here, Merlin.”

“You clotpole! I have helped you. I suggested regulations rather than a full repeal, then helped draft them. I convinced the most reluctant druid leaders to meet with you. And I stopped more than a few assassination attempts from those who’ll never be won over. Not that this was the first time I’ve had to save your royal backside, mind you. I arranged for the high priestesses to give Morgana sanctuary until she gets her own magic under control. And on top of it all, I’ve spent the past few nights in your chambers, teaching you that ridiculous Beltane dance while you crushed my toes.”

“There were assassins? I thought we were making progress.”

“Arthur, there are never not assassins. Ever since I first met you there have been assassins, some have magic and some don’t. But as long as you’ll let me, I swear to you that I’ll stop them, just like I always do.”

The king didn’t respond, but continued to pace, trying to sort his thoughts and feelings. Merlin had been deceiving him for more than a decade. He’d broken some of the highest laws in Camelot, all while posing as Arthur’s most loyal servant and friend. And from what Finna had said, Merlin was no simple conjurer. Magic itself, leader to the druids – why would someone with so much power choose to maintain the ruse of being a servant for so long?

Arthur heard his father’s voice in his mind, telling him that it was an elaborate trap, meant to topple the kingdom. If Uther were here, he’d have already run Merlin through. But Uther would never have found himself in this position. Even without his hatred of magic, Uther would never have allowed anyone as close to him as Merlin was to Arthur.

And that was the crux of it. It wasn’t the magic that was an issue. Arthur had already committed fully to changing policy. He didn’t understand magic, to some extent still feared it, but knew that the laws were cruel and harming his people. Even if he wanted to, he could hardly prosecute Merlin now, not without appearing a massive hypocrite. It wasn’t even the power that Merlin supposedly wielded. If he truly had nefarious motives, there had been plenty of opportunities over the years to attack Arthur, Camelot, or both. On countless instances Arthur had been vulnerable in Merlin’s presence. Not once had Merlin taken advantage of it.

No, the issue was the deception. Time and again, Arthur had let Merlin witness his own fears and insecurities, shared his deepest secrets with the man. Arthur thought he knew Merlin, thought that Merlin trusted him in equal measure. But apparently Arthur was wrong. Arthur wasn’t angry; he was hurt, achingly so. Because the scale of the lies meant that Merlin could not possibly feel for Arthur what Arthur felt for him.

He supposed that he’d come to expect too much from Merlin. From childhood forward, Arthur had often been reminded – from his father, from his councilors, from opportunistic nobles – that he must one day choose a queen to build alliances and produce an heir. While many of the young women who came to call at Camelot were beautiful, Arthur couldn’t see himself marrying any of them. How could he share his heart with someone who was essentially a stranger? The idea felt strange and unnatural. 

For a time Arthur thought that perhaps he simply needed to wed a woman he knew well, setting his sights on Guinevere. And while their brief courtship had been fun and sweet, they both conceded that the whole affair was forced. They were good friends, but that was the extent of it.

What Arthur ultimately came to realize was that he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his days with anyone but Merlin. Whether that meant marriage or something else, Arthur wasn’t sure. He just knew that there was no one who meant more to him or understood him better. A shared glance between them often said more than words. The crown brought Arthur a steady stream of stress and danger and doubt – Merlin’s constant presence was sometimes the only thing that made the most difficult days bearable. How could he not want to spend his life with the man? Merlin didn’t just have his heart – Merlin was his heart. And, Arthur had to admit, the man was very easy on the eyes.

Of course Arthur had never told Merlin any of this. He couldn’t fathom how to begin. But Merlin had never left his side, even when Arthur was at his worst, and so he assumed that Merlin must feel the same way. Which now seemed to have been a grave miscalculation.

The king stopped pacing and slumped beside Merlin. Absentmindedly, he picked up Merlin’s discarded garland. Threading it between his fingers, he sighed.

“I can understand your initial reluctance, but Merlin, after all this time… Friends don’t keep things like that from one another.”

“I know. I just… I’m sorry. What are you going to do with me?”

“Well, I suppose I could have you executed.”

Merlin froze.

“Except that likely wouldn’t go over very well with the druids, what with you being their king or messiah or whatever.”

“It’s not like that. I keep telling them not to…”

“Or,” Arthur continued, “I could confine you to the stocks for a month, though I fear you’d like that too much, what with it getting you out of work. And anyway, that wouldn’t really be legal since the laws are changing. No, Merlin, there’s really one punishment befitting what you’ve done.”

Arthur paused for dramatic effect.

“I think the most appropriate and fitting course of action is to name you my official court advisor on all things magical and liaison to the druids.”

“What?! Arthur, I’m not…”

“Look, you are more knowledgeable about magic than anyone else I know. You may have lied to me for a decade, but you’re still the most loyal and trustworthy person I’ve ever met. For this to work, I’m going to need your counsel, Merlin, this time with full honesty.”

“Arthur, I can advise you without the position. You don’t need to…”

“Merlin of Ealdor,” Arthur said in his most formal tone, “you have committed a grave violation of your king’s trust. You are hereby sentenced to a permanent seat on the royal council, effective as soon as you finish telling me about all of the assassination attempts you’ve thwarted.”

“All of them?”

“In detail. Tonight. And while wearing this – it suits you.” Arthur tried to assume the solemn air of Geoffrey of Monmouth as he placed the flower crown back on Merlin’s head.

“I don’t know if I can get through it all before…”

“And Merlin, if there is anything else you’re keeping from me… Now would be a good time to confess.”

Merlin shifted uncomfortably.

“I suppose I should also mention the dragons.”

________________________________

It was almost dawn when Merlin finished. The task had been difficult at first as he fought against years of conditioning to remain silent. But once he finally began sharing his secrets, they spilled out in a deluge. Throughout it all, Arthur mainly listened, asking few questions as he tried to process the scope and scale of the threats to his own life and his kingdom.  It was staggering how much Merlin had done to protect him with little or no help, even as he feared what might happen if the truth was discovered. And all the while, he still served Arthur and assisted Gaius.

Arthur was left with the question of Merlin’s motives. There had to be more at work than a dragon’s drivel about destiny. To simply fulfill Kilgharrah’s prophecy, Merlin should’ve let Uther die on multiple occasions and not intervened on Morgana’s behalf. Instead, he placed himself in even more danger to protect them because they were important to Arthur. That one fact that caused Arthur to hope that maybe he had misjudged Merlin’s feelings after all.    

“So now you know. That’s pretty much all of it.”

As Merlin waited for him to respond, Arthur made a decision.

“I want to believe you, Merlin, I really do. But you lied to me tonight. In this tent. After swearing you would not do so.”

“What do you…”

“I asked if you’d enchanted me, and you said no.”

“Because I didn’t…”

“But Merlin, that is a lie. When I first met you, I was enchanted by your looks – far too skinny with your ridiculous ears and stunning eyes and gorgeous smile. And then I got to know you. I was enchanted by your loyalty and friendship and bravery. Only now it turns out that I didn’t fully understand the depth of it. You’ve done so much for me, without acknowledgment or praise or gratitude… Merlin, how could I not be completely enchanted by you?”

Throughout Merlin’s confession, they’d sat side-by-side, eyes forward. Now Arthur reached out, cupping Merlin’s chin with his hand. He desperately hoped that he hadn’t gotten this wrong as he gently turned Merlin’s face toward him.

“But I am left wondering… why, Merlin? Why do all those things for me? When you never thought I’d find out? That I’d never know, never express my gratitude for all that you’ve done. And Merlin, I am grateful beyond words. But your actions went well beyond what a king could rightfully expect from his most devoted knights, much less a servant. Then there was the dancing. After Guinevere refused, you insisted on being my practice partner. Every night, in my chambers, holding me close. So if you’re not a conspiring sorcerer, what is your motive, Merlin?”

As he spoke, Arthur leaned forward, resting his forehead against Merlin’s.

“I’m waiting, Merlin – no more secrets. You swore.”

Merlin inhaled sharply, gathering all the resolve he could muster.

“I’m… I’m in love with you.” It came out in a rushed whisper, one which Arthur might have missed had he not been so close. It was desperate and vulnerable, and it gave Arthur the courage he needed to press his lips against Merlin’s.

Like so many first kisses, there was the initial awkwardness as they tried to sort out the logistics of noses and teeth and hands. And then there was physical sensation – soft lips, the warm slide of tongues, heavy breathing, and desperate gasps – it was perfect and wonderful and so much better than any of Arthur’s fantasies.  But even as Arthur found himself consumed with desire, what overwhelmed him the most was the ever-present sensation that this was right, almost as though Arthur’s entire life had been leading him to this moment.

And with that, all feelings of fear and hurt and betrayal between the pair melted away. There was simply Merlin and Arthur, Arthur and Merlin. Together. As they should be. Arthur pulled back, trying to explain this to Merlin, stumbling through his own declaration of love.

“Without you, I’m just not.”

Arthur tried to say more, but lost the ability to speak as Merlin’s hands slipped under his tunic, gasping as cool fingers played across his skin. Arthur grabbed him by the hips, pulling Merlin onto his lap. Encouraged, Merlin leaned forward, kissing him with such force that they toppled over, Arthur now pinned underneath. Flooded with arousal, Arthur bucked his hips up against Merlin’s, eliciting a moan. Merlin began to rock against him, grinding through the layers of fabric they hadn’t bothered to remove. Arthur knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Merlin, I’m about to…”

“Shh… s’ok. Just stay…”

Merlin kept up the pace, fingers tracing along Arthur’s cheeks. It was more than Arthur could handle, crying out as he came. Another few thrusts and Merlin’s body tensed as he followed suit, collapsing on top of Arthur.

Catching his breath, Merlin glanced down at Arthur, smiling so tenderly that Arthur had no choice but to start kissing him again.

The sound of a throat clearing caused the both to freeze.

At the entrance to the tent stood Sir Leon. Though he had his back to them, Arthur could see the deep red blush that spilled from his face to his neck.

“I am… um… sorry to intrude, my lord. Iseldir doesn’t want you to miss the sunrise. Apparently, it’s an important part of the celebration.”

“Thank you, Leon. We’ll be right there.” Arthur tried to keep his voice steady as Leon bolted from the tent.

________________________________

The pair emerged a couple of minutes later, completely disheveled in spite of Merlin’s best efforts to make them presentable. They hurried to meet up with the rest of the group standing at the edge of the trees, watching the first rays of sunlight creep over the horizon.

“Look who’s been learning poetry!” called Gwaine, still very inebriated from the night before. Arthur contemplated murder but decided he was too tired to bother. He’d have to get creative with next week’s training roster.

Bleary-eyed and bedraggled, Iseldir was going on about the changing of the seasons and new beginnings. Arthur knew he was meant to be listening but was distracted by the quick grin the druid gave him.

“That cheeky bastard knew exactly what he was doing,” Arthur muttered to Merlin. “Enchant his hangover. Make it worse.”

Merlin held back a laugh. “Probably best for diplomacy if I don’t.”

The next few hours passed in a sleep-deprived blur. Somehow Arthur made it through the closing speech he was to give, Merlin’s brilliant writing covering the fact that the king had been awake for more than a day. Plans were made to meet again, then the Camelot delegation packed up and headed home.

“Beltane may be behind us, thank the gods,” Arthur said as he rode beside Merlin, “but I will miss our evenings together. My chambers feel so empty when you’re not there.”

Arthur meant it as a question. He didn’t doubt Merlin’s sincerity from that morning, but he worried that stress and exhaustion had caused Merlin to move faster than he intended.

“Well,” Merlin said shyly, “we could continue with the lessons. There are other moves I could show you. Slower ones, even.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur said, “I would like that very much. I expect you in my room tonight. So that we can practice.”

Just then Sir Leon the Long-Suffering, who had been riding closer than either Arthur or Merlin had noticed, spurred his horse past them. He was glad that his friends had found happiness, but there were some details he really did not need to know.


End file.
